


Past's Presence

by akissndream



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Drabble about sad things happening., Gen, There is some cursing and very depressing things involved.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 18:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akissndream/pseuds/akissndream
Summary: The Medic decides to clean out his office and finds an old photo that brings back memories he wanted to forget.





	Past's Presence

It’d been that time again-- a yearly cleaning of the office. More of a biennial occasion rather than annual, considering that the Medic never had enough time to rummage through many archives worth of files and books. While it all eventually piled up and became too much to handle, the doctor figured it was finally time to sort through them.

He had enlisted some help from the other mercenaries-- well, specifically, the Heavy was the only one really willing to assist him. Though the Scout expressed interest, all he’d really been doing was just watching the two other men sort through hundreds of files while eating. It wasn’t like he was busy or nothin’, so why not bother them?

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Medic spoke in a harsh tone, looking up at the younger man sitting on his desk; he knew why, of course, but he wanted an answer from the runner himself. Glancing down from his position, Scout sneered, “Not really, no.” The doctor rolled his eyes in response and went back to sorting through a box. This particular one was labelled as “Erinnerungen,” consisting of mostly diaries and photographs Medic kept from his time with the RED mercenaries.

Only taking a few looks through the journals and the photos, Medic knew what remained within them. The journals were of his thoughts and feelings, written hastily in German with no need for correct grammar or spelling-- hell, some of the pages weren’t spared the mercy of the occasional mistake, what with being destroyed by staining or being torn out. The photos, on the other hand, had mostly him and the other mercenaries sharing various moments together. Many were portraits of everyone either screwing around with each other while many were multiple shots of just individual mercs. Medic felt he couldn’t trust anyone else to preserve them, so he had made a copy of each one for safekeeping-- although it was possible he could’ve lost the copies in the abyss that was his office.

Speaking of things being lost-- as the German pushed away the remainder of the things still left in the box, he briefly saw an old photo peering from a book. His scowl quickly blossomed into a wide grin and he reached into pull it from its resting place. “Hey, look at this!” Medic beamed in his burst of excitement, standing up and holding out the picture for his friends to see.

Scout leaned over from the desk to get a closer look as Heavy turned around. The picture was notable for being very old-- wear coated around the edges and hints of being taken with a primitive camera. It consisted of two people that bore a familiar resemblance to the doctor that stood before them. Their looks and positions were steady and planned, suggesting that this was a portrait of sorts. It was a moment of pure happiness for Medic as he explained, “Ahh, my parents. I thought this was lost forever! I wish I had the chance to recover more pictures of them!”

“Wait, so you tellin’ me you just didn’t spawn from Hell and actually came from a human?” piped from Scout, taking a bite out of his apple. “Ooh, man, I got a few bucks I owe to Sniper--”

“Jawohl-- yes, I did come from a human, you idiot,” Medic growled, glaring at the younger man. “I came from two-- more specifically, my parents. Unfortunately…” He looked back at the photo.

“...Well, I wasn’t able to keep much during World War 2. Many of our belongings were destroyed or lost forever. I was forced to move several times, losing more and more each time…” His tone changed drastically, letting loose some of his mournful feelings. Before he continued on, he felt a large hand on his shoulder. “Is fine if you stop now, Doctor. It can hurt, talking about such things.”

Medic turned to look up at Heavy’s understanding expression, giving him a gentle smile of reassurance. As this brief exchange between the two took place, Scout jumped off the desk to analyze the portrait closer. “Hey,” he started, pointing a finger at Medic’s hand, “who’s that?”

For a second, Medic was confused as to who Scout could’ve been referring to until he saw hints of another person concealed under his palm. Moving it out of the way, he became instantly paralyzed by the sight of them. No words came from the German out of complete shock.

The person had the most uncanny resemblance to the Medic-- much more than his parents. Their entire appearance suggested being much younger than the couple as well as extreme femininity in both physicality and choice of attire. They shared that same solemn look as his parents, making the portrait complete.

But Medic continued to stare at the person in shock. How could he have forgotten about the rest of this photo? His memory was truly slipping from age and repression. Still, words failed to come out of him to help explain the mystery person.

It wasn’t until Scout chimed in that he was able to say something. “Wow! Never thought you had a sister, ay Doc? She looks a helluva lot like you!”

Quickly gathering his words, Medic responded, “Well-- yes, I did have a sister. She was...eccentric. Haughty and too curious for her own good.” Scout elbowed him.

“Sounds a lot like someone, huh smartypants?” 

A wide grin emerged from the younger man while Medic's frustration rejoined him. It was at this moment he just wanted to shove Scout out of his office and continue his day as if he never found this photo. The stunned expressions, the inability to speak-- this all should've been a sign of something else that was going on with the doctor-- but the runner was too ignorant to realize it.

Thanking some random deity out there for Scout's ignorance, Medic decided his stay was unwelcomed now. Snatching the apple out of his hand and quickly disposing it in the nearby trash bin, Medic set the photo on his desk and began to push Scout towards the door. "You are nothing but a nuisance," he said through his burning frustration, “You haven’t done anything in the past hour we’ve been working. Go be useless somewhere else.”

Scout waved his arms rapidly in protest, shouting out random curse words. “Hey! What the hell is your problem, man--?!” He attempted to force himself against the doctor, but Medic refused. Grabbing the runner by the collar and flinging his office door open, he threw Scout out. Before Scout made another attempt at attacking Medic, the door was slammed shut.

A gentle thud followed by even more angry cursing could be heard from the outside along with Scout’s face pressed against the door’s window. “FINE, I DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO HELP YA, DEUTSCH-BAG! YOU N’ LARDASS ARE UNGRATEFUL LIL’ SHITS THAT DON’T DESERVE NUTHIN’ FROM ME!” Medic simply locked the door and pulled the blind over the sad display he witnessed before him.

Heavy had simply just been watching all of his unfold before him within a span of a couple minutes. It was truly amazing seeing how his best friend can go from enthusiasm to grief-- as well as shock to rage-- in less than 3 minutes. All he could really do was observe, knowing Medic could deal with Scout on his own.

Flipping back around and retrieving the photo from his desk, Medic walked toward Heavy with intense disdain in his face. He looked back at the figure claimed to be his “sister” in the portrait, remembering things he wanted to forget. “Heavy did not know you had a sister, Doctor-- never talked about her,” the Russian stated simply, uncertain of what Medic’s response may be.

Carefully taking a grasp of the worn photo, the German gently tore around the shunned figure while his friend watched quizzically. Crumpling up the torn piece, his face became as stern as his parents; now, Medic was looking straight into Heavy’s eyes.

“I never had a sister.”

**Author's Note:**

> There are many headcanons I have of Medic in particular that I wanted to express here. I still need to put more time and research into things if I decide to write more on them.
> 
> Edit: Oh my, I didn't expect to get so much attention on this! Thank you to everyone that read and gave this kudos and bookmarks!


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